


Clothed in Armor and Makeup

by worddancer



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Effie knew something was up, F/M, Implied Relationships, POV Effie, Survival, The Capitol, effie isn't stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:55:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5851402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worddancer/pseuds/worddancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Capitol citizen could care about the children in a superficial way. They could cry over the deaths, the money they lost in a bet or whatever else. They’d be distracted by the next shiny toy that came around. An Escort was above that. An Escort was doing the glorious work of the Capitol. Caring was subversive. Caring led to thinking, thinking led to questioning, questioning led to rebellion. </p><p>An Escort did not rebel.</p><p>Effie Trinket was only as stupid as she needed to appear to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clothed in Armor and Makeup

**Author's Note:**

> I've read some amazing fics about Effie and they inspired this one. I hope you guys like my mini look into who Effie Trinket is.

Effie Trinket knew there are many forms of armor. She had seen children turn rocks into bludgeons and adults turn words into knives. There are many ways to protect oneself and she use which she had at her hand. She knew the names she called were for children who were sent to die, she knew that their parents would weep and she knew that people would cheer. She knew it was horrible and it was awful and she knew that no one else could know that she knew. 

She wore her makeup, her shoes, her hair, her dresses, and her ignorance like the tributes wore their battle armor. Someone had to call the children's names. Someone had to call the parents at their deaths. Someone had to spend a year in the capital lining up sponsors to give gifts to the children so hopefully they would die a little slower. 

Someone had to give a kind word, someone had to lay a comforting hand on the crying child, someone had to give kind words- sincere but useless- to parents when their children died. That someone might as well be her.

Effie knew of the rebellion long before it happened. 

She wasn't stupid, only as ignorant as she needed to be. 

She watched how Haymitch and the other mentors circled each other during each Games. She watched as secret messages were passed under the noses of those who wanted to stop them. She washed as Finnick sold his body to the highest bidder to protect the ones he loved. And she watched how she was ignored.

Effie knew she couldn't do anything to help with that despite how much she might want to. So she taught the children manners, helped dress them and gave them the best chance she could to get the sponsors to keep them from dying a little longer. Every year she prayed that this would be the year that something changed, that something happened. And never was.

So she did the best she could to comfort the children. She found their favorite foods even when their bellies have been starved for so long it only mattered that the food was hot. She found them what little sponsorship she could. Effie knew what little power she had and she wielded it like she wielded her lipstick.

One of her first years as escort she called the name of a 12 year old little girl. Later on the train while Effie was teaching the children manners the girl looked at her and said “I'm not going to win so it doesn't matter but thanks.” 

Effie knew that the child was right; there is no chance for a 12 year old starved girl from District 12 to ever win. So she found the most delicate foods in the capital and the tastiest desserts. She called in favors with her designer friends and found dresses and wigs and makeup and shoes and she played dress up with the little girl in the penthouse each night. She found a camera and tried to capture each time the girl smiled.

When the bell rang the little girl walked straight into the Cornucopia, to the tribute from District 5. Her throat was slit and she bled out before she could feel any pain.. Effie held it together she called the parents. She told the crying couple what they knew days ago would happen, their child had died. Afterwards she locked herself in the bathroom and cried for hours. She cried until Haymitch came to the door. She cried when he opened it and in a moment of weakness she let him hold her in his arms and she cried some more. 

After she stopped, she straightened up and she took her makeup from her purse. She started to carefully reapply her makeup. She transformed herself from the woman who cried over the death of a smiling little girl into a Capitol Escort who was just doing her job. She met Haymitch’s eyes in the mirror and saw the recognition in them. 

“Go,” she told him, “We still have one left. I’ll be out in a few. It’s going to be a busy, busy, day.”

She watched Haymitch nod once, understanding all too clear in his eyes. They had their roles to play. She with her makeup and him with his drinking.

She was only as stupid as she needed to appear to be. 

A Capitol citizen could care about the children in a superficial way. They could cry over the deaths, the money they lost in a bet or whatever else. They’d be distracted by the next shiny toy that came around. An Escort was above that. An Escort was doing the glorious work of the Capitol. Caring was subversive. Caring led to thinking, thinking led to questioning, questioning led to rebellion. 

An Escort did not rebel.

Still once the games were over, once the children were dead, once the celebrations were finished, Effie Trinket printed the photos of the smiling girl spinning in a Capitol dress. She printed pictures of the serious boy watching the smiling girl with a small smile of his own. When she hugged Haymitch goodbye she slipped the pictures into his suit pocket. The parents should know their children smiled before they died. 

Every year she called the names, she taught manners, she called parents and she tried to make the children smile at least once. 

During the 65th Hunger Games, her fifth, a rumor flew between the mentors and the escorts. The escort from District 9 was sleeping with the mentor. They had talked as lovers do of escaping away from the Games, away from the Capitol. A few days later she was found dead from an overdose of a recreational party drug and he was found dead in a farming accident. The message was clear; behave or else.

Escorts didn’t care and mentors didn’t work. Step out of line and you will be made an example.

Then the 74th Hunger Games came. She called a twelve year old little girl. Another child to die. She felt her heart break as it did every time she called one of the young ones.

“I volunteer!” a voice cried out. An older girl ran up, her face showing panic under stone features. Effie could see the stone facade was about to break and the scared sixteen year old girl underneath would show. Weakness can’t be shown in the games. Sponsors didn’t like to see tears, citizens didn’t want to be reminded these were children. Those who cried usually died quickly.

“I’ll bet my buttons that was your sister.” Effie heard herself say. She knew the girls reaction would be anger, anger got sponsors. Anger might keep her alive.

On the train after Peeta had showered Haymitch, Effie forced her way into his room and threw open the window. The wind would drown out any bugs.

“You will be sober tomorrow Haymitch. You will help those children however you can.” she told him.

“I can only bring one of them home Effie.” Haymitch reminded her staring at his hands, “you know the rules.”

“I know the rules. I also know what else goes on every year. Find a way if you can, if anyone can it’s you.” 

“If I say anything, if you say anything we all end up dead. You know that.”

“So make THEM say it. Not the kids but the people.” Effie demanded before walking out again.

Effie Trinket was only as stupid as she needed to be. 

Peeta Mellark was as clever as he needed to be.

Katniss Everdeen was so much stronger than she should have to be.

Haymitch Abernathy was more sober than he had been any year before.

Effie ran from sponsor meeting to sponsor meeting with the words Haymitch had whispered to her ringing in her ear.

“Sell the story.”

She sold it. She asked for money, for gifts, she sighed with old ladies and young lovers on how sad it was that the children would be parted.

“If only,” one old woman said as she signed the cheque, “they are so young, they remind me of my late husband.”

“Well the rules are there.” Effie said as she faked another bright smile, “Still what a wonderful story, the star crossed lovers.”

Star crossed lovers. God Effie hated that saying more every time she uttered it. It worked though. Peeta used his camera time to weave together a story of love that everybody believed. He saved Katniss, took a wound, crawled into a stream and waited to die.

But he didn’t die. 

As tribute after tribute fell the voices became louder and louder.

Let them live, let them win together if they can.

Effie watched the announcement, saw the dancing in the streets. She watched as the horrible mutts chased the children to the cornucopia. She watched as Cato grabbed Peeta. She saw what the Capitol wanted. Peeta would be killed by Cato, Katniss would try to kill Cato- for revenge or to survive it didn’t matter. The Capitol would have a single victor. The Games would be preserved. 

Effie watched as Peeta drew a target on Cato’s hand. She watched Katniss shoot the mark. She watched Cato die. She hated herself as she celebrated that her children were still alive because another child died. She held her breath as her children held up the poisonous fruit. She cheered like a good capitol citizen when the children won. 

That night instead of going to sleep she climbed the stairs to the roof of the penthouse. Haymitch was already there a glass of brown liquor in his hand already half empty.

“We’re not done. They’re going to try and kill her.” She said once she stood next to him. 

“Yep.”

“We have to make them love her so much they can’t. We have to save them.”

“I know sweetheart, I know.”

“Can we do it?”

 

“I don’t know.”

The next year was hell. Trying to keep the children alive on the tour, trying to toe the line. Making sure she looked like she didn’t care at all. She watched as Katniss withered away under the stress. She watched as Haymitch played his role and drank. She watched as Peeta tried to hold himself and Katniss together. She watched as he failed. She watched them lay together each night. She carefully put on her makeup each morning.

“Do I need to find them protection?” she asked.

“No, the nightmares are too loud for anything else.” Haymitch told her. Effie nodded. She long ago learned to keep her screams in as she dreamed. 

She was almost glad when it came time to announce the Quell. For at least a little bit the attention would be off the children. They could breathe. They could ignore the farce of a wedding that was being put on. They could be alone with their nightmares which was a tiny bit better than having a camera’s eye on them.

When they announced the Quell Effie cried for the first time since the twelve year old girl 13 years ago. For one night she let herself feel. She let herself cry for the children, the mentors, the districts, Haymitch and herself.

On the train they watched the reaping. They watched as people they knew and liked were called to die. 

She went to Haymitch’s car again. 

“It’s so stuffy in here and you smell like a distillery.” she said as she threw the window open. 

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“Almost everyone in that arena is part of it all.” Haymitch said. Effie knew he knew that she knew. They had never spoken about it so openly before.

“That many? Haymitch, how…” her voice broke as tears threatened to spill from her eyes again.

“There’s a plan. When the time comes listen to Plutarch.” Haymitch said. She knew he couldn’t tell her more, it was too dangerous. 

“I’ll be ready.”

Effie opened the car door and walked back into the hall. She turned and locked eyes with Haymitch, not even bother to try and smile. 

“Busy, busy day tomorrow. I have sponsor meetings set up all day and I’ll make sure to relieve you for a bit in the afternoon.” she hated how natural it was to force a cheerful, empty note into her voice.

She was ready though. One way or another this was going to be the end. She didn’t really care.

Effie Trinket put on her makeup and her wig in the morning. She went to the sponsor meetings. She watched the arena. She prayed for the children. She prepared.

Effie Trinket wasn’t stupid. She was only as ignorant as she needed to be.

It happened too fast. She tried to run to the roof with Plutarch. She tried to escape. She was captured. They put her in a minimum security prison. After all she was a silly escort who happened to have to wrong district. She modeled for Capitol Couture, gathered sponsors and had always said the right thing at the right time.

They didn’t believe she knew anything, they just thought she maybe heard something and was too stupid to know it.

She sat in her cell and listened for every scrap of information she could hear and she waited. 

Effie Trinket wasn’t stupid, but she made sure everyone thought she was.


End file.
